


Never Knowing

by FanOfFandoms3



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha Jim, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst, Arguing, Beta Sherlock, Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Omega John, Rape/Non-con Elements, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 07:16:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12054003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanOfFandoms3/pseuds/FanOfFandoms3
Summary: "Sherlock?" Mrs. Watson exclaimed, apparently forgetting that the boy in question was standing right there. "What does he have to do with anything?""He's myboyfriend! We'retogether!""No, John. We let you have your fun with Sherlock, but it can't go on anymore. You're an omega. You need to fulfill your duty to this family. Now, calm down before you hurt yourself. You have to look at least somewhat presentable when meeting your husband."





	Never Knowing

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> This is not actually the first fic I've written, but this is the first one I've actually completed!! **gasp** And now published! **double gasp** I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Quick A/B/O world-building note: this is a beta-dominated society, which means alphas and omegas aren't common enough in this world to have their biology (and culture) be taught in schools. So basically, Sherlock and co. are too ignorant to know what they're talking about. I try to make this clear in the story, but it might be useful to know before you start. 
> 
> Also, thanks to Ariane DeVere for the Sherlock transcripts so I could figure out what the fuck Soo Lin's brother's name was.

It was a beautiful May afternoon. Trees and grass of varying shades of green blurred by the black pickup truck as it sped through the affluent neighborhood. The air was chilly as it whipped past, but the sun was shining down its warmth, keeping the truck's seven teenage occupants warm. The group of friends were scattered around the flatbed, chatting away as they were driven home after a long day at school.

It was dreadful.

England's unusually pleasant weather was far too cheery for somebody as agitated as Sherlock Holmes was at that moment. He sat in the flatbed of the pickup with his boyfriend, who was possessively holding him from behind with one arm while carrying on a conversation with Sally Donovan, Philip Anderson, and Greg Lestrade. Sherlock was doing his best to ignore them as he hunched over a piece of paper, deep in discussion with Soo Lin Yao on traditional Chinese characters. Apparently, you could break down characters into different components that each have their own meaning or cultural significance. It was like a puzzle. The whole study of Hanzi was rather interesting and Soo Lin had a large wealth of knowledge in Chinese culture. In fact, Soo Lin was surprisingly knowledgeable on a wide variety of topics, including history, law, and art, but Sherlock had yet to deduce how she had acquired the knowledge. All he knew - well, cared to know - was that her and her brother, Liang, were not here in the UK legally.

Normally, Sherlock would have counted this as a perfectly happy moment. John Watson was wrapped around him and he was having an intriguing, intellectual conversation with a criminal. He would have stored it in his mind palace as a memory to come back to on more melancholy days. However, none of this could be viewed as a happy occasion because, Jesus Christ, he was going to _kill_ his boyfriend.

All he needed was for the boy to sit still so that he could focus on what Soo Lin was saying. However, that must have been too much to ask because, just as she began to explain the significance of '口', John shifted his leg _yet again_ , causing the paper they had been writing on to fly off the back of the truck. Sherlock felt the last of his patience go with it as the thin sheet drifted on the wind before softly landing on the pavement.

Soo Lin giggled, which Sherlock did not understand. In absolutely no conceivable way was this funny. John was ruining absolutely _everything_. She must have noticed his mood because she immediately suppressed her laughter and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

"It's okay," she soothed. "Chinese writing will always be around. People will not."

She pointedly nodded towards John before settling back into her brother's side, effectively ending the conversation. This did nothing to lighten his mood. He didn't need the paper to remember the details of their discussion, but it would have made the memorization process a little easier. On top of that, it would take at least a week before Soo Lin would be willing to open up again. He could do research at the library, but he had found that the best source of knowledge came directly from people. It was easier to deduce the accuracy of the statements that way.

Liang loomed over his sister, trying his best to be the intimidating bodyguard he thought himself to be. However, it only made him look like an overprotective brother. Sherlock scowled at him. Why were people so _frustrating_? He let some anger loose by jamming his elbow backwards, squarely hitting his boyfriend in the ribs. The pained yelp was only a small vindication for his troubles.

"What was that for?" John asked, rubbing his side with the arm that was not wrapped around Sherlock.

"I was _trying_ to have a meaningful conversation with Soo Lin, before you ruined it all. Just because you're horny does not mean that I have to suffer," he snapped.

Predictably, John went bright red. It contrasted nicely with his sandy blond hair, making it look even brighter in the sun.

"Horny?" he squeaked.

Sherlock let out an overly dramatic sigh that some might consider to be more of a groan. "You're practically draped over me," he said as he indicated John's current position. "You always put a respectable distance between us in public, yet now you've done the opposite. You are constantly shifting, which is usually a sign of anxiety. Although, you aren't showing any of the other indicators and your pupils are blown, so that only leaves the possibility that you are simply trying to get some friction to your penis. We will be at your house in approximately four and a half minutes. We will deal with your predicament there. Until then, control yourself so that you don't waste any more of my time!"

By the end of his speech, Sherlock had been nearly shouting his frustration. The rest of the people in the truck had gone silent, all eyes on the couple. The only sound was the whipping of the wind that went by. As the silence stretched, doubt began to niggle its way in, worried that he might have finally stepped over the line with John.

"Christ, I love you," John eventually declared as he tried to dive in for a kiss. Sherlock half-heartedly tried to wiggle away, hiding the embarrassing relief he felt at John's words.

"I hate you," he replied, which was an obvious lie.

"You two are disgusting," Anderson declared from across the flatbed.

"Oi, get your own, you jealous wanker," John threw back, finally succeeding in landing a loud and messy kiss on Sherlock's cheek.

"It's not as easy as that," the boy lamented as his greasy, black hair blew across his pale face. "You're an omega! You naturally attract people to you. Us betas are left to struggle."

Sherlock's slowly rising mood died when he felt John stiffen around him at Anderson's careless words. The blond forced out an uneasy laugh.

"Yeah, well, the omega life is definitely a struggle, too," he muttered just loud enough. Lestrade glanced in the rearview mirror from his position in the driver's seat. After seeing the look on John's face - one of silent suffering with a truly pathetic attempt at hiding it - he reached through the open back window and hit Anderson in the leg.

"Oi! What was that for?"

"You're a fucking idiot," Lestrade replied matter-of-factly as he turned the truck onto another street. Anderson's face scrunched up, making him look like an angry rat.

"Don't give me that. It's true! Omegas got some kind of natural scent that's supposed to attract a spouse or something. Only alphas can really smell it, but betas register it on an unconscious level. That's why all the omegas are already in relationships. Isn't that right, John?"

"You sound like a mad conspiracy theorist," Sally thankfully interjected before John was forced to respond to that nonsense. "Where did you hear something as ridiculous as that?"

"On the telly," Anderson announced, as though daring anyone to contradict the all-knowing telly. The man was an imbecile.

"Oh, for God's sake! Shut up before you lower the IQ of the whole street," Sherlock snapped in frustration.

"I will not, you-"

"John is no different now than he was three months ago," Soo Lin quietly interjected before the two could devolve into a petty argument.

"Exactly, Soo," Sally agreed with a beaming smile, like a mother watching her child make their first friend. Soo Lin blushed while her brother just glared at Sally. "Besides, those two freaks were together _long_ before he presented."

Sally Donovan was a master of being supportive, yet somehow riddling it with insults.

"Always lovely to have your support, Sally, but I believe this is our stop," Sherlock stated in a mildly sarcastic tone as Lestrade pulled up to the ornate, golden gates that indicated the Watsons' drive. Sherlock hopped out first, wanting desperately to end this conversation, and made his way to the keypad. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John start to follow before he was stopped by Lestrade reaching through the driver's window to grab his sleeve. Sherlock paused before entering the code, surreptitiously eavesdropping on the two.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, of course. I'm fine," John replied in a way that meant he really wasn't fine. Thankfully, Lestrade could see through it.

"Don't listen to them. Anderson is a nut job and Sally's a bitch. Gender doesn't change you. You're still the John Watson I've always known."

This was clearly the wrong thing to say. John bristled, shifting his weight into a slightly more aggressive stance.

"Well, maybe I'm not-" he started to say, but Sherlock had had enough and decided to intervene.

"Come on, John. Let's go have crazy, wild sex and see if Anderson can _unconsciously_ smell it tomorrow," Sherlock shouted as he quickly entered the code, causing the gates to slowly swing open. He took great pleasure in the idiot's indignant shout as he stalked down the pavement towards the grand house, knowing John would follow shortly. Sometimes, he couldn't stand John's pessimistic nature, especially when Lestrade was right - for once in his life. He just needed to figure out a way to prove it to the stubborn boy.

Just as he was nearing the front entrance, he felt a sharp shove from behind. He stumbled forward and almost fell face first into the porch step, but those same hands that had shoved him were now spinning him around and guiding him to fall backwards against the door.

"Crazy, wild sex, huh?" John asked before kissing him rather forcefully.

Even after dating John Watson for one year, four months, and twelve days, the pleasure of John's lips on his own was still breathtaking. It was a different experience every time. Sherlock has spent hours alone in his room dissecting and cataloging the intricacies of snogging that John seemed to navigate effortlessly. This time, John wasted no time in the build up, immediately diving his tongue in to lick every crevice of the taller boy's mouth.

"Christ, Sherlock," John muttered into his mouth between panted breaths. "I want you to fuck me."

Wait, what? Sherlock - albeit reluctantly - ripped his mouth away from John's, who didn't seem to notice his own strange words or Sherlock's reaction to them, only continuing to place open-mouth kisses along his jaw and down towards his neck.

"You hate anal," Sherlock pointed out because this was important. John had always been indifferent towards any anal play. But ever since he had unexpectedly presented as an omega just over two months ago, he had been adamant that nothing would ever go near his arse.

"What?" John asked. He pulled back and looked at the taller boy with a hazy, confused expression. "What are you-"

Before he could finish his question, the door behind Sherlock opened and he found himself falling backwards with a shout, unintentionally pulling John down with him. He ended up sprawled out, with dull pain radiating from his back and head, staring up at a floor-length, maroon dress and the disappointed, hazel eyes of a woman in her forties.

"I should have known," she muttered with disdain.

"Hello, Mrs. Watson," Sherlock greeted with as much cordiality as he could muster, but she was already ignoring him in favor of John. Typical.

"John, get inside. Family meeting."

The blond scrambled off and then held out his hand, pulling Sherlock up, as well. Without letting go, John led the way inside, but, aggravatingly, Mrs. Watson stepped in between them, blocking the taller boy from entering the house and cocking her hip in order to trap his wrist between the door frame and her dress.

"Family only, Sherlock. You understand," she said in an overly sweet tone and a false smile.

"Whatever you have to say can be said in front of him, too," John cut in with obvious annoyance.

Mrs. Watson's eyes narrowed on Sherlock, who merely raised an eyebrow in return.

"Fine. Join us then," she relented in a clipped tone with a tight smile. She then whirled around and marched back into the house. Her high heels clicked loudly on the marble floor as she made her way down the large hall and into a room on the right.

"Come on, then. The longer she waits, the worse this will be," John muttered as he gently squeezed Sherlock's hand in a reassuring manner before letting go to shut and lock the door.

The two boys followed her path. John looked as if he was marching into battle, but Sherlock was far more wary. The woman had relented much too easily with his presence and he couldn't figure out why. There just wasn't enough data yet. When they entered the drawing room, they found the strange sight of the entire Watson family all sitting in the same room. Mrs. Watson had sat down next to her husband on the white couch, trying to look as regal as possible. It was a tough feat when her seventeen year-old daughter was on her phone, lounging on the perpendicular chair with her feet propped up on the coffee table. John's father was wearing an older, worn out suit, staring at the drink he held in his hand with a crinkle in his brow.

"Harriet," Sherlock said in greeting, knowing that she hated the name, as he and John sat down on the love seat opposite the adults.

"Freak," she replied without taking her eyes off her phone.

"Harriet, get your feet off the table," her mother snapped.

Reluctantly, and with a very dramatic sigh, she dragged her feet down, only for them to stomp loudly on the floor.

"What's this all about, then?" John asked with his usual lack of finesse.

"Well, John, let me start by saying, once again, how excited your father and I were when you went into heat," Mrs. Watson began.

"Oh, Christ. Not this again," John muttered as he leaned forward, smashing his face into his hands.

"We are just so proud to have an omega in the family."

"Johnny didn't do anything, mum. You can't be proud of genetics," Harry interrupted in a bored tone.

" _Either way_ ," Mrs. Watson carried on, her smile turning just a bit forced. "Your father and I have not been idle for the past two months. It took a lot of effort and a great deal of bargaining," - begging, Sherlock mentally supplied - "but we have finally done it."

Sherlock felt a bit of ice settle in his chest, along with an overwhelming sense of dread as the pieces starting fitting themselves together. Mrs. Watson sat there with such a beaming smile, probably congratulating herself on a job well done. Her husband had not noticeably moved, but Sherlock saw the slight clenching of his fingers around the glass, apparently bracing himself for what was coming next. Even Harry had lowered her phone to look suspiciously at her mother.

Oh, God, please let his deductions be wrong.

"Done what?" John asked because he can't see.

"She found you a spouse," Sherlock whispered in horror before Mrs. Watson could answer.

"What?" both Harry and John immediately demanded.

"Are you sure?" John asked him urgently, which was stupid. Of course he was sure. Why would John think he would ever say something like that if he wasn't absolutely sure?

"Just look!" Sherlock nearly shouted, panic making his voice crack just a bit as he stood up. "That is her favorite dress. She only wears it when she's feeling exceptionally good. She's pulled her hair into a tight bun, which means she's looking to impress, but still feels the need to keep it practical. The same goes for your father; she'd never let him wear such an old suit unless she knew it might get even more damaged. They both are prepared for a physical altercation, which means they think you won't take their news well. Then there's the fact that your father rarely ever drinks anything other than wine. But that is Scottish clan whisky, going by the bottle that's sitting over there. It is a strong, highland whisky, meaning he either wants that burn to clear his head or, more likely, it's liquid courage. He doesn't completely agree with this, but he's going along with it. Finally, she was far too willing to let me into your private, family meeting, which means this will also affect me, probably negatively if her attitude is anything to go by. She thinks this will finally get me out of your life. She knows how you feel about me - you've been quite open about that - so what could possibly lead her to think that you would leave me? Well, considering this relates to your newly found gender, that only leaves marriage."

John's eyes were darting around the room, looking at every detail that Sherlock had listed. His breathing had turned erratic as he saw that Sherlock's deductions were accurate.

"Thank you for that, Sherlock," Mrs. Watson snipped, probably miffed that he stole her thunder.

"Mum, you didn't," Harry whispered, having recovered from her shock.

"Of course I did," Mrs. Watson replied, as though it were obvious. "Arranged marriages are a tradition, especially for omegas."

"I can't believe it. Who still has arranged marriages anymore? It's barbaric!"

"Harriet, don't be so dramatic. The lower classes may have stopped, but it is still a very common practice among upper society. I would have set one up for you if you hadn't been so... unruly. No man would have made us an offer even if I had tried."

Harry sat there in shock, probably imagining how very different her life could have been. Apparently, Mrs. Watson still didn't know about her daughter's many dalliances with other girls.

"Unfortunately, Hamish has always denied my wish to arrange one for John," Mrs. Watson lamented. "And I've respected it, but we no longer have a choice. You're an omega now, John. You can't go through life without an alpha. You remember how difficult it was having a heat by yourself."

Sherlock saw John flinch out of the corner of his eye. He had refused to talk about what had happened during those four days, but clearly it wasn't pleasant. Mrs. Watson either didn't notice or simply ignored John's reaction, only continuing on in her speech.

"It took some time - apparently you've made quite the impression on society with your stubborn behavior - but we found you quite the young man. He's-"

"No!" John shouted, finally breaking out of his shocked state. Thank God. Sherlock was starting to get worried that John would just let this happen.

"Excuse me? What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean, no!" John repeated, standing up as his anger grew. "I won't go through with it. I am perfectly happy with my life, thank you very much. Sherlock and I-"

"Sherlock?" Mrs. Watson laughed, apparently forgetting that the boy in question was standing right there. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"He's my _boyfriend_! We're _together_!"

"No, John. We let you have your fun with Sherlock, but it can't go on anymore. You're an omega. You need to fulfill your duty to yourself and this family. Now, calm down before you hurt yourself. You have to look at least somewhat presentable when meeting your husband."

John didn't reply, only staring at the woman with his mouth hanging open. Sherlock sincerely hoped it was because he was too incensed to respond. Honestly, the taller boy had never seen his boyfriend yell so much. His anger was usually a silent, seething rage until it boiled over into physical violence. But today, he was all emotion and it was a little jarring. Maybe that was why Sherlock was having trouble observing, trying to put the pieces together in order to find a viable solution to this mess.

Harry's voice eventually cut in. "John, I swear I didn't know about this. If I-"

Sherlock could immediately tell that this was the wrong time to say that. John's eyes hardened and he quickly turned on the older girl.

"Shut up, Harry. This isn't about you, so don't make this about you! I know you don't give a rat's arse about me. You'll probably go out and party after this, right? Celebrate your freedom with tons of friends because you'll never have to be forced to give up the love of your life for some random alpha with a fat wallet!" John shouted, punctuating his anger with a kick to a nearby chair, causing it to knock over with a loud crash.

"Alright, John, calm down," John's father finally stepped in, setting his now empty glass on the coffee table. The boy let out a disbelieving laugh as he took a few steps towards the window with a roll of his eyes. "It's really not that bad-"

"Not that bad?" John repeated, marching back around the couch to stand next to Sherlock. "You're a god damn hypocrite! I remember when I was eight years old and you told me you were going to marry Margaret. I didn't want you to, but you told me I was being selfish for denying you another chance at happiness after Mum died. Now you're doing the same damn thing to me."

"This is hardly the same scenario," Mrs. Watson felt the need to point out.

"Are you kidding me?"

Sherlock tried to cut in, muttering John's name and placing a hand on his arm. An idea was slowly forming in his head, but he needed John to stop yelling in order for this to work. Unfortunately, John ignored him, shrugging off his hand and continuing on his tirade.

"Who are you again? Oh, that's right. You're the second wife. You are nothing to me. What gives you the right to-"

" _John Hamish Watson, that is enough_!" Mr. Watson cut off as he stood, using his height to his full advantage. "You will respect Margaret and-"

"Respect? Why should I respect her when she doesn't respect me? She said so herself, this marriage is only because of my gender and class. She's just using me as an object to show off to her high society. She'll be ruining my life, if she gets her way and you're just going to let her."

"I will not-"

But before Mr. Watson could finish, the ringing of the doorbell echoed through the house. All arguing ceased immediately, leaving a heavy silence to follow.

"Oh, that must be him! Come, come," Mrs. Watson cheered, motioning for people to follow as she bustled out of the room. Apparently, the prospect of introducing John's future husband was enough to let her forget all the unresolved anger in the room.

"Don't think you're getting out of this, son. Any of it," John's father threatened before stalking out of the room after his wife. Harry glanced at John, looking as though she wanted to say something. However, she must have decided against it after seeing the boiling emotions on John's face since she instead quickly and quietly left the room, leaving only the two boys and the sound of John's heavy breathing behind.

"John, listen to me. You have to calm down," Sherlock urged, preemptively cutting off anything John might say.

"Sorry? Are you mad?"

" _Shut up and listen_ ," he harshly whispered. He turned and grabbed either side of John's face, not allowing him to look anywhere else. "I have a plan to get you out of this, but I need you to be a soldier for me. I can fix this for us, but I can't _think_ when you're _so emotional_."

"You have a plan?" John asked, the hope in his voice incredibly relieving. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to do what I do best," Sherlock replied with a vicious smile.

Finally, John's adorable, yet frustratingly slow brain was catching up. " _Oh_. Right, yes, sorry. Soldiers?"

"Soldiers," Sherlock agreed as the doorbell rang once again.

With a nod, the two turned and marched back into the hall. Mrs. Watson was standing in front of her husband and daughter, doing some last minute fussing with their appearance. Sherlock chose his place carefully, leaning against the wall a little behind the older Watsons. Here, he wasn't immediately noticeable, but was still easily able to see everything. He heard John stop behind him with a loud sniff, a clear sign that his anger was not gone, only controlled. Sherlock smirked in early victory. This was going to be easy. Whoever was going to walk through that door would never know what hit him.

"Sherlock," John whispered harshly, but the taller boy ignored him. He had a man to deduce within an inch of his life.

When Mrs. Watson was finally satisfied, she opened the door to reveal John's alpha. He was leaning against the door jamb, one leg kicked up casually behind the other with both hands in his jeans pockets. An old, white T-shirt was visible underneath the tan jacket he wore. His head was bowed, only showing a ostentatious London hat. But as the door opened, the man lifted his head to reveal a surprisingly young face with pale and soft features. He was chewing gum and his eyes immediately bypassed Mrs. Watson to fix on John. A predatory smile grew on his face, giving a distinct impression of a snake setting its sight on a mouse, wanting to tease and play with its food before swallowing the mouse whole. Sherlock couldn't help but step in front, blocking John from this stranger's view. The alpha's gaze was now on him instead. His face didn't necessarily change expressions, but a fire of anger and contempt grew in his eyes.

"Hello, you must be Jim," Mrs. Watson greeted.

In an instant, the man's whole demeanor changed. The snake disappeared and in its place stood a skinny kid who you wouldn't look twice at if you saw him on the street. It was more than a bit jarring, causing Sherlock to think he had imagined the whole predatory stand off.

"Yes, I am, and you must be Mrs. Watson," The man - Jim, such a boring name - replied in a light, Irish voice. He took off his ball cap, revealing short, brown hair. He held the hat against his chest in one hand while the other was held out for Mrs. Watson to take. When she did take it, Jim lifted it and kissed the back of her hand, holding eye contact with her the whole time.

"Oh, please, call me Margaret," she stuttered out, apparently overwhelmed by his charm.

"Alright, Margaret," Jim practically purred with a dashing smile.

"Please, come in," Mrs. Watson invited after recovering a bit.

While Jim and the rest of the Watson family exchanged boring pleasantries, Sherlock tried to read as much as he could of the man who thought himself to be John's future husband. The fact that this person had departed a plane this morning and spent the day touring London was obvious from the state of his clothing. He preferred high quality things, but was comfortable in any situation. He was highly educated, well-mannered, and incredibly _boring_. None of this was _useful_ in scaring the man off.

"And this is... Sherlock? You're still here?"

Of course he was. Did Mrs. Watson really think that he would just disappear?

"Sherlock?" Jim questioned.

"Oh, he's nobody-"

"I'm John's boyfriend," Sherlock quickly interrupted, hoping this information would get the newcomer to back out. Dull men like him must have stupidly high morals and wouldn't want to ruin a perfectly good relationship.

"Boyfriend? You never mentioned a boyfriend," Jim turned to Mrs. Watson with raised eyebrows.

Predictably, the woman flushed in anger and embarrassment. "I didn't? Well, I think- I mean he-"

"Well, it's no matter," Jim interrupted, taking pity on her useless floundering and turning back to the boy. "You are only a beta, after all."

The last part was sneered, making his gender sound like a vile insult. Sherlock only narrowed his eyes, refusing to let it affect him.

"I may be a beta, but John wants me. He would never choose a narcissistic alpha who flew through uni on daddy's money."

A smile grew on the alpha's face that was all teeth. It was an I-know-something-that-you-don't smile and it made Sherlock falter and lose some of his confidence.

"You sure about that?" Jim questioned with a pointed nod to somewhere over Sherlock's shoulder.

With confusion, he cautiously looked behind him and what he saw terrified him. John was no longer the angry, stubborn Watson he was a minute ago. He was now visibly sweating and his breathing had become labored. One hand was splayed against the wall seeking some kind of support while the other was clenched tightly at his side. This was the look of someone in pain and struggling for control. Despite this, his blue eyes never left Jim's. Omega stared at alpha, partly with fear and partly with... something else that made Sherlock's heart clench.

"John? What the hell-"

"What's wrong?" Mr. Watson demanded, worry making him rush over to his son and take his other arm to help support him.

"He's in heat," Jim answered simply.

" _What_?" Mr. Watson exclaimed. "How is that possible? He's not due for another month!"

"Well, the fact of the matter is he's in heat _now_ ," Mrs. Watson snapped as she stepped forward. "Hamish, keep an eye on him. Harriet, go grab the food and water I prepared from the refrigerator."

Sherlock watched helplessly as the two women rushed off to do... whatever they were doing. Christ, he didn't even know what a heat _was_. John looked to be in pain and he had no idea as to how to help. No wonder his boyfriend had made it perfectly clear in the past that he never wanted Sherlock to see him in that state. He was completely useless.

"Was that really the best you could do?"

The accented voice startled Sherlock out of his spiraling thoughts. He turned his head to find Jim standing directly behind him. From this close proximity, Sherlock could see every minute detail of the alpha's nearly blank face. He couldn't have been much more than five years older, but he held himself in a way that made him seem so much... _more_. More experienced, more skilled, and more frightening.

"How... disappointing," Jim continued, looking down on the younger boy. "Now, back off."

Sherlock nearly flinched at this stranger's critical assessment of his abilities. A dark voice in his mind, one that sounded suspiciously like his brother's, couldn't help but agree that, yes, he was a disappointment. However, a much louder part screamed at him to do _something_ to help John. So, he stayed strong, fully turning to face the alpha head-on.

"You think I'm just going to let you waltz in and take everything away from me?"

" _No_ , that would be boring. No, no," Jim tutted. "I've waltzed in, but it'll be _John_ who will take everything from you."

"And why would he do that?"

Jim smirked in response, his gaze sliding towards the boy in question. Sherlock followed his gaze and immediately felt immobilized by fear at John's worsened state. He had fallen to his knees at some point and had his eyes clenched shut, looking like he was holding back tears. His father was hovering over him, attempting to comfort his son with useless platitudes.

"He's in so much pain," Jim said softly. "Heat inducers are such nasty things. Practically make you feral, if you don't use them just right."

Heat inducers? Sherlock's eyes widened at the realization and he snapped his gaze back to the older man. Jim glanced back, but after seeing the look on the teenager's face, he closed his eyes with a pained expression.

"No, moron, it wasn't me. Use your brain."

Even more insulted and desperate to prove that he wasn't an idiot, Sherlock tried to recall everything he knew about omegas and heat inducers. Admittedly, his knowledge was extremely limited due to the fact that alpha-omega biology wasn't taught in public schools. Although, he did remember once reading an article about a rise in prostitution-related deaths due to black market heat inducers. If he remembered correctly, it took approximately twelve hours for the heat to be fully in effect, which means that John had been given them before school this morning.

Oh. He should have seen it. Mrs. Watson had shown no signs of shock that John was in heat, unlike her husband. She had wanted this marriage to happen so badly that she must have somehow slipped the heat inducers into her step-son's breakfast.

"Yes," Jim affirmed, drawing out the word into a hiss after seeing the realization on Sherlock's face. "The evil step-mother. Every fairytale needs a good, old-fashioned villain, which makes Johnny boy our damsel in distress, waiting on his knight in shining armor to save him."

"And that's you?" Sherlock snidely asked. It was a weak response, but he didn't know what else to say. John was still in heat - _in pain_ \- and Sherlock couldn't _fix it_.

Jim raised a questioning eyebrow. "Do you really think you can keep him? You're a beta and John is an omega in heat. Only an alpha can save him now."

Sherlock didn't want to believe the venomous words, but his brother's voice in his head was telling him that they were true. He could never help with heats. John didn't _want_ him to help. And if this was something that omegas went through on a regular basis, then John deserved someone who could actually help.

John Watson deserved better than Sherlock Holmes.

Christ, it killed him just to _think_ that.

As Mrs. Watson returned, Jim spit out his gum into a wrapper he had produced and shoved it into Sherlock's hands.

"Step aside, junior. Daddy's home."

Stunned, Sherlock let Jim saunter past. As Jim got closer to the huddle of the Watson family, John opened his eyes and watched Jim approach with wide eyes.

"Harriet and I fixed up the guest house for you two. It's heat-proof, so you two won't have any disturbances," Mrs. Watson said with a wink.

"I can show you where, if you'd like," Mr. Watson offered, looking like he would rather do anything else.

"Thank you, but I'm sure I can find my way. Don't worry about your son, sir. I'll take very good care of him. "

Hesitating for only a moment, Mr. Watson nodded. He and his wife backed away, allowing the new couple a modicum of privacy. Jim smiled, fully satisfied and victorious before crouching down. John immediately took advantage of the close proximity and crawled weakly into the brunet's lap.

"Don't worry, pet. I'll fix it. I can make it all better."

John muttered something while trying to rub himself on the older man. Jim shivered in response.

"Oh, the things I'm going to do to you."

Sherlock couldn't watch anymore. As Jim stood, half guiding and half dragging John with him to the guest house, Sherlock forced himself to turn away, letting John go forever.

Amidst all the commotion, nobody noticed Sherlock silently slipping out the front door.

 

_“The worst thing one can do is not to try, to be aware of what one wants and not give in to it, to spend years in silent hurt wondering if something could have materialized - never knowing.”_   
-Jim Rohn


End file.
